A Day With Rupert
by mandasheerio
Summary: A short yet sweet story about your potential day with the one and only Rupert Grint


Your body's internal clock wakes you at the usual 9:00 am, and you lay in bed staring at the ceiling for a good twenty minutes before realising you should probably get out of the house and do something productive. You are about a month into your summer break, and you decide it's time to just get out of the house and do something. You aren't sure what, but you feel as though the right thing to do is just hop on a bus and see where it takes you. The sun begins to peek in through your shutters and you take that as your cue to get out of bed. The quietness of your house tells you that you're home alone, which in this case is a good thing, meaning you won't have to explain your extremely vague plan to your parents. You quickly get dressed and make yourself look presentable, but not caring _too_ much about how you look. After all, it's not like you're trying to impress anybody today. The corner of a twenty dollar bill peeks out from underneath your bed and you grab it, dragging along another one that is stuck to it. Perfect. Forty bucks should do quite well if you decide to make any impromptu purchases. You double check your wallet for bus change and head downstairs. The notepad sitting on the counter reminds you that you should probably write your parents a note in case they get home before you. "_Gone out for a bit. I have my phone on me. See you soon"_ you scribble down. Quickly grabbing a granola bar out of the pantry, you head out the door ready to do god knows what.

The bus stop has nobody else waiting at it as usual, so you sit down inside the bus shelter and stare at the mud splattered glass in front of you. The 93 pulls up in front of you, and just as you're about to stand up and get on it, it occurs to you. You have memorised this route from taking it to school every day, so what's the point? You are looking for an adventure, and doing the usual route isn't adventurous at all. The bus pulls away, and before you can change your mind it's too late. The next bus is coming up over the hill and you stand up. You don't even look at the bus number because at this point it truly doesn't matter. You slip your change into the box and take a seat in an empty section. The only other people joining you are a quiet middle age Asian woman clutching her purse and a forty year old man dressed like a teenage boy. You take a deep breath as the bus pulls away and the roaring engine muffles out all other sounds. You slip your headphones into your ears, select your favourite Alt-J song and close your eyes. The bus continues driving along the unfamiliar route, and you are almost asleep when it aggressively stops and jolts you awake. You groggily open your eyes and look out the window beside you. You don't recognise anything, which could perhaps be a good thing. The doors to the bus open and you watch the tired, groggy people just like you enter the bus. A tall, slim blonde woman carrying a grocery bag, a man in a business suit holding a briefcase, and just as the doors are about to close, a tall, slim man with fiery red hair steps on and sits in the section of seats adjacent to you. You are flipping through songs on your iPod when it slides off the seat and falls onto the ground with a loud thud. "_Shit," _you mumble, moving your bag so you can bend over to pick it up. However, before you can reach out for it, the stranger across from you picks it up.

"Here," he says, offering it to you.

"Thanks," you say, embarrassed by your klutziness. You look up at him with a smile, but that smile quickly forms into a look of pure shock. This red headed stranger isn't a stranger at all. You would recognise that hair and that crooked smile anywhere. You rip your headphones out of your ears and try to think of something to say. You've seen so many movies and heard so many fictional stories about this kind of thing but nothing like this has ever happened to you. "You're...you're Rupert Grint..." you say between panicked breaths.

"Am I?" he says quietly in that familiar British accent, "I hadn't noticed," he laughed.

"Sorry," you say frantically, "I just wasn't expecting to run into, um, a celebrity I guess."

"I get that a lot," he smiles, "oh, I suppose we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Rupert," he says with a wink, reaching out his hand.

"I'm Rachel," you smile, shaking his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you."

"You as well. So um, what bring you to the extremely obscure city of Calgary if you don't mind me asking?"

"I was visiting a cousin of mine, but he's working all day today so I have a day to do nothing before I fly back home. I figured why not just get on the public transit and see where it takes me. Where are you headed?"

"Strangely, I don't really have a destination either. I just kind of got on a bus and I have no idea where I'm going." It still hasn't fully sunken in that you're having a conversation with one of your favourite celebrities. It can't be real, it just can't.

"That is strange. Perhaps we should go somewhere and do nothing together? My brother told me about a cool little place, I can't remember the name of it, but apparently it's really neat. I've got the address here, do you want to go?" He leans against the seat in front of him and stares at you, waiting for your approval. You get lost in the moment for awhile, and it suddenly occurs to you that you still haven't answered him.

"Oh! Yes! Sorry I'm just completely out of it right now, but yeah, I mean I don't have anywhere to be obviously so why not." You smile nervously. You know you're making a fool of yourself but you just can't help but be completely mesmerised by what is happening.

"Perfect." He pulls out his phone and appears to input an address into it. "Oh it's quite close to here," he announces, looking out the windows on both sides of the bus. Your surroundings are starting to look a bit familiar now. "I think that's it," he says, pulling the yellow stop cord above him. He stands up and motions for you to follow him. You start walking towards the front of the bus.

"Please stay seated while the bus is moving!" the driver snapped. You both sit down on one of the seats and giggle. The bus comes to a stop and the doors open. He stands up first, reaching out his hand to help you up. As you exit the bus, you hear the bus driver say something. "Hey you're that Harry Potter kid right?" she asked, popping her gum.

"Oh no no, but I get that a lot," he turns to wink at you before stepping off the bus. You follow him out and the bus pulls away, leaving you both standing on the dusty sidewalk. He turns to look at the buildings around you and his face lights up when he notices one just down the street. "There it is!" he points, and at that moment you realise that you know exactly where he is pointing. You've spent so many hours there that they know you by name as soon as you walk in.  
"Melodiya?!" you ask with a giant smile on your face.

"Yeah!" he replies, "I've got player back home but I've been meaning to pick up a few more records." You grin widely.

"I love it here," is all you say, you can't think of how to form proper words through all your amazement. You both walk over and he opens the door for you. He looks around, slightly perplexed by how small and crowded the inside of the building is. You lead him through the shelves of books and action figures until you reach the room full top to bottom of posters and records that you so clearly know.

"This is bloody insane," he says, completely in awe. You nod in agreement and motion for him to follow you over to a section close to the ground.

"Okay, so all of these records along the bottom here are a dollar each."

"No way."

"Yep. Now get looking, we're gonna be here for a while." The two of you sit on the floor for what seems like forever and browse through obscure records with titles so ridiculous you just can't help but set them aside and buy them. You laugh and talk, and after awhile, the initial feeling of nervousness has passed, and it is just like talking to an old friend. When the two of you have managed to go through almost every dollar record in the store, you each purchase three and head out of the store. The manager gives you a wink and a thumbs up as the two of you exit. You wander aimlessly along the sidewalk for about half an hour before approaching a Waves Coffee.

"Alright, go get us a table, I know what to get," he winks. You nod and pass him your twenty dollar bill as you're about to leave. "No, no. It's on me, don't worry." You smile and go and sit down at a table in the corner. You sit there completely still with a wide, stupid grin on your face that hasn't managed to go away since the morning started. He joins you a few moments later holding two identical beverages, passing you one. "Ever had a London fog?" he asks.

"God, you know me so well. It's my favourite thing here." He hasn't failed to amaze you once. The two of you sit there for a couple hours, discussing life in all its greatness, and continue talking even after you finish your beverages. It's like time literally stands still when the two of you are together, and it suddenly hits you that you've been sitting and talking for much longer than you originally thought. One of the employees walks over to you_. _"It's closing time in about ten minutes." Just as she's walking away, she does a double take. "You look a lot like Rupert Grint," she says, scratching her head.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," he says slyly. The employee walks away and the two of you share an all-knowing glance. He gets up, throws your drink cups away and escorts you out through a maze of empty chairs and empty tables. You look down at your phone for the first time today and realise that it's already 7 pm. You know your parents are probably going to be wondering where you are, but you don't have to heart to tell him you need to leave. You walk back to the bus stop you got off at and wait.

"Well Rachel, I can honestly say this is one of the strangest, yet best days I have ever had. So thankyou." He nudges your shoulder gently and smiles.

"No, thankyou. I couldn't have imagined spending this day in a better way. It's been incredible." The bus comes a few minutes later and the two of you sit beside each other at the very back. The bus ride back seemed so much quicker knowing you never wanted this day to end. His stop is approaching quickly and it saddens you knowing you will never see him again.

"You're an amazing girl. I wouldn't have wanted to spend my last day here any other way." He leans over and kisses your cheek, close to the corner of your mouth. You can't think of words to express how you feel, and soon the bus has come to a stop. He stands up and looks down at you. "I'll be back eventually. Promise you'll wait for me?" You smile and nod. He caresses your face and you watch him leave. Your heart is pounding as you let out a loud sigh. You look down to the spot where he was sitting to see a small slip of paper. You pick it up and turn it over to reveal what appears to be a phone number. You stuff if in your pocket and giggle, clutching on to your handful of records. After the bus stops, you sprint home and up to your room. You change into your pajamas and snuggle into bed after saying a quick goodnight to your parents. You know that anything else that happened during this day could never compare to what has just happened, and you won't let anything ruin how perfect it has been. You lean your bag of records across from your bed and stare at them until you fall asleep.

Your body's internal clock wakes you at the usual 9:00 am and you wake up with your mind racing. You turn to face your record player, and you are breathless when you see that the bag of records has just disappeared. No. There is no way that could have been a dream. It was too real. You sit in pure shock and agony as you try and comprehend what has happened. You finally realise that there is no way it could have been real. You walk over to the spot where the records had sat. There was no sign they had ever been there. You sigh and sit on the floor, overcome with a feeling of strong disappointment. You put on your sweater and stuff your hands into your pockets furiously. You're shocked when you feel something in your right pocket and even more shocked when you pull it out. You see a phone number written on it and gasp. You frantically reach for your phone and type in the number, calling it. It rings. And rings. And rings. It rings for five minutes and never goes to voicemail. You hang up and lean against your bed, staring at the ceiling in a bundle of confusion and rage. You stand up and begin to head downstairs when you hear your phone ring.

"Hello?!" you answer frantically.

"I thought you'd never call."


End file.
